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  • NOBLE POETRY  

  • THE CITY

     

    The houses are like bombed, homeless wasps' nests, the clouds are cotton-candy figures, - the blood-scarred twilight's warning call Should go home already: approaching threatens, as a secret informer the Dark! There is still a home to return to - at least for now! The landscape, plundered by natural calamities, stands alone: it guards, protects, and stands - with unwavering will, armour sprouting like a glorious relic. 

    Unknown faces, strangers to themselves, still look out on the panel island - on the tiled carpet, and as a special art I could whisper freely into the ears of ladies my compliments, my wishes of beauty! Now only the gazetted, taracked destruction: outside, unmown pampas grasses and alfalfa would be waiting anxiously for a permanent mowing. Faded the passion of the sun like a knife! - Man was always made for mini-Taïtidos, like the lonely, solitary

    The struggle of existence his birth-brittle hairs of hairs diligently exercised. Only the priceless evocativeness of memories remains with me: the seductive scent of flirtation, the soundless and flaming body-talk of bombarding glances, the entreaty of chattering lips, the tongues of tongues 

    the glowing destruction of tongues in atomic moments of passion! - Only in thy all-knowing, all-storing consciousness Thou canst keep Thy past, as a mini-cage, duly arbitrarily captive, Thy prettified past; This is thy home, thy untouchable, earthly paradise! - Great 

    The flaming cauldrons of injustice swirl around thee, If thou hold up thy head, even in innocence, they'll soon behead thee: No heaven-smiling eye beside thee With loyalty, with saving virtue, can hold thy hand - Thy dreams are but the meagre consolations of hangovers, Only Memory itself is stubborn,

    stubborn, self-consoling Promethean renewal, - smiling faces around thee; a camp of towering viper's nests - thy being ever winding. And only thy heart can beat yet! Is it vain and ever vain? The reckless, hot-headed and irresponsible purpose of suicides, To strike the undead, even the living, with the incomprehensible death of the undead! 

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